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He traps me.
Cages me.
“I know you, Pe
His words whisper into my ears. The message is pure torture.
There are so many aspects to fixate on. Too many facets to assail me.
My brother stopped looking? Which brother? What evidence? Was it the tooth Luther extracted from my mouth without sedation? Or the fist-fulls of hair that have been ripped from my head over the unending months?
No.
It’s all lies. All make-believe.
I don’t have siblings. I don’t have a past.
I suck in breath after breath, trying to ignore how he keeps goading me into a game I’m not equipped to handle. He’s deliberately pushing my buttons. This man is merely violating me with mental manipulation instead of physical.
Fuck him.
Fuck. Him.
I swing around to face my tormentor, his body so close, those eyes holding mine. I glare, and glare, and glare some more, but all he does is stare right back. There’s still no smirk. He’s devoid of the toxicity that usually forewarns of an impending strike.
All he gives me is stony silence while he traps me in the cage of his arms.
“You’ve got the wrong woman.” I raise my chin, strengthening my resolve. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, but it’s not me.”
I rebuild my mental walls, frantically attempting to make them stronger and stronger as he remains a brutal force in front of me.
I have no family.
No weaknesses.
No vulnerabilities.
There’s only here and now. There’s only Luther and this unending hell.
“I know you’re scared.” He gentles his voice, the delicate sweep of his breath brushing my lips. “But I know who you are. There’s no mistaking it.”
His softness is foreign. The look in his eyes is, too. Everything about him screams of sanctuary, but it’s all a trick. A twisted, manipulative strategy.
“Stop it.” I glance away. Each inhale is pained, the air filling my lungs carrying tiny thorns to pluck me from the inside out. “Leave me alone.”
He’s triggering my hope and there’s nothing more dangerous to my stability. My hands shake from the internal battle of optimism and reality. I have to harden myself, to remember all the things I’ve endured and how the living nightmare never ends. There’s no savior. No peace to come.
There’re only beatings. And rape. And eventually, the peace of death.
“He lives in Portland,” he continues to stoke my insanity, making my pulse spike. “I’ve been working with him.”
“Stop.” I squeeze my hands into fists, digging my nails into skin. He’s filling my head, suffocating me with lies. I don’t want to drown. Not from this. Not from longing.
It’s too much.
My lungs squeeze.
My heart hurts.
“He’s been dating—”
“Stop,” I scream, my hand lashing out to slap across his cheek. “Stop.”
My palm burns with the contact, the pain quickly sliding into my chest, restricting my air.
Oh, God.
He snaps ramrod straight, his eyes blinking in a daze.
Oh, God.
I hyperventilate through the mania, not realizing the stupidity of my mistake until the dark red of my attack seeps across the left side of his face.
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.
The damage I inflicted is blindingly obvious. It’s a mark of defiance. Undeniable evidence of my rebellion.
“It’s okay.” He backs away. “Don’t panic.”
It’s too late for that. I’m in full-blown hysteria, my breathing rampant as the glass door slides open down the hall and pounding steps approach.
“What’s going on?” Luther’s bellow echoes off the walls moments before he enters the room, Cole hot on his heels, both their rage clear to see.
Bile rises in my throat. My limbs tremble.
I huddle into the corner of the kitchen, clutching the counter on either side of me as Luca raises his hands in surrender.
He looks guilty, like he’s the one who just threw away his life instead of me.
“Someone better start talking,” Cole snarls. “My patience is growing fucking thin.”
I can’t speak. I can’t think.
Luther will rain hell down on me for this. He’ll take pleasure in the break of my bones.
“He didn’t do anything.” Tobias’s timid voice carries from the doorway on the far side of the kitchen, his head poking around the frame from the hall.
My heart becomes a fragile butterfly, each violent beat threatening to break the thin membrane of my sanity and send me nose-diving.
He heard.
He heard, and he’ll do absolutely anything to make his father proud. Even if it means stabbing me in the back.
“You saw what happened?” Luther asks.
“I was snooping.” Tobias inches into the kitchen. “I know I shouldn’t, but Pe
“And?” Cole growls. “What happened?”
“Nothing. The man was being nice and Pe
I don’t know what’s worse: his conflict over betraying me or the inevitable possibilities if he tells the truth.
“What, son?” Luther approaches him, placing his evil hands on the boy’s slight shoulders. “What was she doing?”
I silently beg Tobias to keep quiet. To lie. To betray his father even though I know he never will.
“She was being mean.”
Pain slices through me, a soundless sob clogging my throat.
Luther grows an inch with his palpable fury. “You dare to make a guest of mine unwelcome?” He turns toward me, approaching with menacing steps.
I cower, turning my face away, wrapping my arms around my middle. I can’t help the show of weakness. I’m fucking bathing in it, my fragility clear for everyone to see.
That man—that stranger—has fractured a resolve I’d built over years of torture. And he did it all with a few perfectly chosen words.
“I’m sorry,” I plead. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“Fucking stupidity, that’s what.” Luther looms above me, fists clenched at his sides. “Do you need to go back to basic training? Or maybe I should send you to work with the majority of my women so you can understand how well you’re treated here.”
Horror consumes me.
“Please.” I collapse onto my knees. “I didn’t mean it. I apologize.”
“It’s my fault.” Luca’s voice breeches my nightmare. “I got carried away. I tried to make small talk and when I mentioned her past I think she took it as a taunt.”
I hold my breath, the burn of building suffocation sliding through my veins. I don’t understand his motive for taking the fall. Why would he? Why risk his safety for mine?
Luther grabs my chin, his rough grip forcing me to meet his gaze, his other hand raised in threat. “You need to be punished for your disobedience.”
I know.
God, how I know.
And I’ll accept his violations without protest over the hell of being sent away from here. He can hurt me as much as he likes as long as I don’t have to step foot inside one of his brothels.
“Dad,” Cole warns. “I’m growing tired of the adolescent distractions from these women. Can’t we get the fuck out of here already?”
My heart stutters. Stops.
I don’t want a delayed sentence. Giving Luther more time to think is dangerous. I need him to react on instinct, not with well-thought-out deviance.
When Luther doesn’t respond, Cole huffs.